In debt
by Torchiclover22
Summary: Harleen Quinzel, a resident psychiatrist is unhappy with how things had been going at work. But somehow, she ends up being in the Joker's debt, although what he asks is a bit suspicious. Even so, she still complies, as she believes it will benefit her. But will it go the way she imagined? M to be safe
1. Chapter 1

Hellooo! First off, I know a lot will be happening in the first chapter, but I just wanted to get things going, heh! This is my second story, I gave up on the first one, but I hope it's good! Please review and tell me what I should improve on :D

By the way, Harley is completely OOC. I thouht of making a completely new character, but I figured it's just easier to use Harley.

Harleen slammed her foot on the brakes and the car thankfully stopped just in time to not hit the old lady that was crossing the street. The blonde groaned, the day was going horribly so far. At least she could get some sleep as soon as she'd get home, or could she? How was she supposed to keep her mind from racing?

She had tried to pretend it was just a normal day, going back home from work, getting something to eat then go watch TV and sleep. But who was she fooling? It wasn't a normal day, you couldn't possibly call a meeting with the Joker, the most wanted mad clown mass murderer of Gotham. She was unscathed physically, but mentally she was stressed out beyond belief. Her psychiatry career wasn't going too well either. It was her first year of work so she wasn't even allowed to even try to treat patients, she was supposed to watch and learn for five more years while getting treated like a child by the older doctors.

That day, she had wanted to eat lunch away from the asylum for once. Since she had no money, Harleen had to withdraw some from her bank, although it was a very bad time to do so, as she walked in on the Joker and his goons robbing it. After messing with her a bit and using her as a human shield, The Joker said three words that kept echoing in her mind over and over.

'See you soon.'

She had been pondering on their meaning the whole day. The blonde wished she had someone she could confide in and tell them about what happened, but there wasn't anyone she knew that wouldn't send her straight to Arkham.

As soon as the girl arrived home, she threw herself on the bed, enjoying the sensation of freshly cleaned sheets against her skin. Pulling the blankets on top of herself, which sent pleasurable shivers thorough her body, Harleen attempted to doze off. Ten minutes later however, she was still wide awake and soon she realized it was pretty much impossible to sleep. And how could she, after all?

With a defeated sigh, she threw the blankets off and just laid in the comfortable bed, allowing her thoughts to wander wherever they pleased, hoping that would help relieve at least some of the dreadful stress that was dominating her mind.

Until that day, her life was the same. Boring, usual, but comfortable and safe. She was at least sure no serial killer was on her tracks. As much as she thought he only said that to scare her and get /that/ reaction out of her, there also was a possibility that he was actually going to 'visit' her again.

But why would he? That's what she didn't understand, why her? She was nothing out of the ordinary, her appearance was quite plain and her personality wasn't too bright either. What could have caught the Joker's eye to mark her as his future source of entertainment? Harleen hoped dearly that wasn't the case, but she had to be realistic. It was a real possibility that she simply could not dismiss, try as she might.

And if she does come across the Joker again , what will he do? Kidnap her and murder her? Neither sounded too pleasant, but she had calmed herself down. There was no point to fear death, as it was something you had to embrace. Once death starts looking for you, there's nowhere you can hide or run.

She somehow doubted he was planning to kill her. What would he gain from killing her? There are seven billion other people he can kill, and he already murdered thousands already. What would her meaningless life be to such a man? No, she kept trying to tell herself he would have slashed her throat already if those were his plans.

The psychiatrist in her desperately wanted to meet him, to talk with him and to try and figure out the way his fascinating mind worked. It had been her dream since she was a young girl to meet a serial killer, but she hadn't imagined it to be so...distressing.

And one had to admit, he was pretty amazing. A mastermind genius, nobody, not even the batman can catch him or threaten him with anything. If he had nothing dear to him, not even his life, then there was literally nothing stopping him. And damn, that was pretty scary. Harley wondered if he had any mental illnesses. It was impossible not to, but which? Sociopathy was the first thing that came into her mind, but there was no proper way to analyse him without talking to him beforehand.

Finally, her lids had become heavy and sleep had come faster than she expected. It was very early and she didn't read any of the patient files she was supposed to, but fuck those. She needed to rest desperately, as her habits of only sleeping a few hours per night were starting to affect her face. The ugly bags under her eyes made her look like a walking zombie and her mood was significantly lower whenever she was tired, and that was always unpleasant.

The following morning, the dreaded alarm clock awoke the girl from her shitty sleep. A headache was throbbing in her head and she was unable to keep her eyes open until her eyes finally managed to adjust her sight to the daylight, about ten minutes later.

All in all, she was feeling as if she has had no sleep that night, due to the numerous nightmares and strange dreams she had. The worst part was that she could remember nothing about them, just that they were pointless and abstract.

With a deep sigh she threw herself under the hot water of the shower, almost falling asleep in the process of washing herself. After messily brushing her teeth and hair, she managed to get dressed with yesterday's shirt and skirt, not bothering to pick anything new.

Harleen stared into the mirror, cringing at what she saw. No amount of makeup could hide the black bags underneath her eyes and their red pigment. Nonetheless, she grabbed her keys and got into the car. There was nothing she could do about her morbid appearance.

As she was driving, Harleen felt like she was about to crash in every tree or post she encountered. Entering a long but narrow one way street she sped up, hoping to reach her workplace faster. She knew this street was usually empty, as nobody really lived around that area, so she didn't think there were any risks.

Suddenly however all her thoughts were proved wrong as her car suddenly collided with something. Something solid. The girl's heart skipped several beats as she Anxiously got out of the car to analyse what had just happened.

She had hit a child is what happened. The kid laid in a puddle of blood, clearly dead, and she had to stop herself from screaming. She couldn't even cry. Harleen turned around, got into her car and instantly drove home, where she would better contemplate what had just happened and whether it was a dream or not. She was still in a state of shock and panic, so her driving wasn't perfect but she was careful not to hit anything else this time though. After a long mental debate with herself, she decided against calling the emergency number. They couldn't do anything.

As she entered her apartment, realization had hit her like a wrecking ball, shattering every piece of her. She would be going to prison, she would get a huge ass fine. She was a murderer. Her life was pretty much over. And even if she somehow didn't get into prison, nobody would accept her again. Her face would be all over the newspapers, probably calling her 'Harleen the Killer' or some other horrid names, people pointing at her whenever they would see her. She would probably be fired from her job, become homeless and eventually end up killing herself.

Harley realized she was just panicking, with good reason indeed, but she was panicking. With a deep breath, she managed to stop the mini heart attack she had been experiencing and allow the tears to come out. She was planning to throw herself onto the bed, but suddenly she felt a hand grabbing her right shoulder, preventing her from advancing.

She felt like her heart and brain were about to completely shut off. Like lightning, she turned around, a waterfall of tears still rolling down her cheeks. The so called Clown prince of crime, the Joker was staring emotionlessly at her.

"What do you want?" Harleen yelled through the tears and the sobbing and sat herself on the bed, attempting but obviously failing to calm down.

He had just raised an eyebrow, followed by a malicious chuckle which seemed so poisoned that he insulted her by just laughing. "Why is my doll crying?" He asked casually as he sat next to Harley, watching her try to contain her tears.

"Because your 'doll'," she said with the best roll of her eyes and sarcastic tone she could muster at that time. "Just ran over and killed a child! I'm going to prison!" she finished as she dared to look into his eyes for a mere second, observing their onyx colour. They had no hint of brown, just black like his makeup which made his eyes look like botomless pits. Just like his soul, probably.

She wasn't even interested to hear the reason he was in her apartment in the first place as she was pretty sure she didn't want to know it, preferring not to hear of anything he had to say as it sure as hell wouldn't make her feel better. If anyone told her she would be crying because she had just killed a child and she would find the Joker in her apartment she would kindly thank them and send them straight to Arkham. There weren't many free cells, but she would have found a way.

"Noo...no no no. Who said you're going to prison? You're not going to prison, doll. Not if I can help it." He said with a mischievous grin. Harleen was certain he wasn't doing it out of the kindness of his heart, he surely wanted something in exchange. And she wanted to find out what as soon as possible.

"Why would you help me?" the girl questioned, her sobbing had stopped temporarily . "What do you want?"

"What do I want..? I want therapy sessions with you, doc-torr." He said, his grin had faded but a malicious grin was still decorating his chapped lips covered in blood red makeup, which extended to his scars. Harley eyes discreetly studied them.

"Therapy? With me?" she suddenly blurted out, rather surprised of his request. If she was unsure he was truly mad before, she was now completely certain of it. Why would he want sessions with a doctor that has just finished college?

"Do you have hearing problems, girl?" He growled, slight annoyance present in his tone. The Joker was studying her features, although there wasn't much to see besides an emotionally wrecked girl. If these future sessions truly did take place, it surely wouldn't help that he saw her at her worst. Although, sessions with the Joker were a million times better than a few good years in jail.

"How are you going to erase all the evidence, though?" the girl asked, truly curious of what he was about to do, although she had a feeling she wouldn't get a response, which made her realized how stupid the question sounded.

"Don't worry your pretty little head about that, I have my ways." He responded as Harley stared at him dumbly, her crying had ceased. She was unsure of what to do, the Joker was going to help her? Why? It all seemed suspicious.

"Why would you want to help me for therapy? What do you really want?" Harley growled, her face bore no expression. From the corner of her eye she caught sight of her grey cat which was aimlessly walking around her apartment.

"Isn't that what you want? To prove yourself?" He impatiently answered, a hint of annoyance present in his strong tone. "Aren't you tired of just watching others? Harleyy, don't be stupid. I know you want this." The edge of his mouth curled into a smirk, the scar extending even further. It was hard for her to keep her eyes off them, but he didn't seem to mind. He was probably proud of them.

But yes, The Joker was right. It would be a great opportunity for her to deal with a high profile criminal, the man that every psychiatrist dreamed of trying to treat, to get into his head. He was rarely in the asylum for longer than a month when he did get caught though. And that short period of time was enough to get into the doctor he was assigned to's mind and break it. Harley had always been fascinated by the Joker and knew all of the public and some of the secret information about him. Which might explain why she wasn't flipping out because he was in her apartment. That, and the fact that she has just killed a child and he was her only chance.

"Alright.." she finally said with a sigh as her cat gracefully leaped on her bed with a low meow. She couldn't help but stress out a bit, unsure of what the Joker would do. She didn't trust him in the slightest.

The cat rubbed itself against the joker, he was simply watching it. With a sudden movement of his hand, he scared it away and it retreated into the kitchen, desperately looking for food. Harley realized she had forgotten to feed it, and was genuinely surprised it was still alive.

"I uh, must go. We will see again, Harley Quinn." The joker stated, his lips and scars stretched into a small grin which featured his stained teeth. Coffee, she supposed. He calmly walked out the door, like he was a regular citizen, not a mass murderer.

Harleen threw herself onto the bed, groaning. She was feeling extremely dizzy, and the encounter seemed to be a bad dream. Why the Joker wanted therapy sessions with her was still a mystery, but she wasn't complaining. Indeed it was a good opportunity for her, and no way she would be missing it out.

"Therapy?! With her? Are you out of your mind?" yelled an annoying woman with a russian accent, about 23 years of age, obsidian locks falling on her shoulders and down her middle back. If it weren't for the vertical scar across her right eye, one would say she's the prettiest woman in the world. Tall, but curvy, athletic , and deadly with a gun.

The Joker said nothing, but merely glanced at her, obviously not in the mood for pointless bickering. It had been a long day, figuring out where this girl lived and actually getting in. He hadn't slept in the last few days either, so fatigue was inevitable. But of course, he was stubborn and drank his weight in coffee daily, until he would finally crash and sleep for a few hours. He has been repeating the same unhealthy schedule for the last few years, but he was still alive and well, as such he had no reason to get more rest. After all, sleep is for the weak.

"You were only supposed to kidnap her! Not get in her apartment! What if somebody saw you? Do you even-" the Joker interrupted her by calmly, yet brutally pinning her to the brick wall, keeping her in place as she struggled. Although she was good at her job and was competent enough to handle the brainless henchmen, he did not tolerate her short-temper. It ticked him off.

"Sonyaa." He began, his tone soft and his knife slowly tracing Sonya's scar. Big blue eyes were now filled with fear, the realization of her mistake having clearly hit her. "Annoying people are boring. And you know what happens to people I dislike." He stated, his tongue swiftly running across his chapped lips as he'd press the knife into the scar, opening it up slightly as the brunette winced, her eyes closing to mask the tears ready to fall.

With a minuscule smirk, he released her, pushing the girl in the direction of the basement door. "You are pathetic, little girl." He spat as he returned to his own room, pondering whether he should sleep or try to figure out the rest of the plan. Its first part was clear, kidnap the girl and use her as bait at Harvey Dents anniversary, then lure batman to try and play the hero to rescue her after he would anger him enough.

But then what? He supposed he could live up to his name, the guy without a plan, even though that was a facade he had put on. Although it was true for the most part, he did have a goal, a general plan. The little details, such as blowing out hospitals or killing a few hundred citizens were however insignificant. They were just part of the big thing.

He kept attempting to forget Sonya's misbehaving, but it seemed to fail to slip from his mind. So what if he had some fun with his victims before kidnapping them? It was polite to at least get to know them a bit before plainly using them, or at least so he figured. Besides, it had been two years since his last visit to Arkham and desperately missed breaking the fragile minds of the psychiatrists. They had indeed helped him more than they ever realized, they helped him figure out that everyone had a weakness. He just couldn't discover his. Sure, he greatly disliked the Batman and boredom, but did those really count?

With a sigh, he finally decided to rest. The Joker threw himself onto the amethyst pigmented sheets and quickly feel into a deep slumber.


	2. Chapter 2

Harleen stared into the mirror, judging her appearance that didn't seem to be quite right that day. Perhaps it was the fact that she didn't have enough time to iron her clothes, because the extra five minutes of sleep were precious, or perhaps it was because of her pale complexion decorated by dark circles underneath her azure eyes. The contrast they made against her lightly pigmented skin gave off the impression of a zombie. And it wasn't too far from the truth.

The cause of the fatigue was the rough night that she had. Her mind was unable to stop racing, thinking about none other than the Joker which had decided to pay her a visit the day before. Surprisingly enough, she was alive and well, the only trace that the joker left on her was the fear. Although she liked to seem brave, Harley knew she would be glancing behind when walking the streets at night, double checking if she had locked the door and Anxiously entering her own home in fear of the Joker waiting for her. And he most likely would, he had said he wanted... therapy after all. Although she questioned his true motives, she figures she would be risking more if she did not accept. Even though there was a possibility that she might end up in Arkham herself after a few sessions.

She sighed and left the apartment, looking it twice instead of once, and drove slowly to work. It was a very strange drive for her, and since the accident she was driving much more carefully, her foot always resting against the brakes.

What surprised her is that she didn't really give much thought to the child she had hit with her car. Mostly because the Joker seemed to occupy most of her mind, but also because she figured her brain didn't comprehend the fact that she had indeed killed a child. No, she was never the crying type, or the type to feel sorry for people, but the fact that she couldn't even force herself to mourn the child.

But Harley guessed it was normal. She didn't know that kid, and she never really was one of those people with kind hearts. No, she didn't go around killing people, but she had to admit being a serial killer must be pretty amazing. She prefered a life full of action rather than a dull one, which is what hers was at that moment.

With a sigh, she adjusted her shirt and walked into the asylum, faking confidence. Although she politely greeted every doctor, not all of her good mornings were returned. She was sick of their arrogance, but needed to advance in her career.

After a few hours of doing multiple things, such as watching sessions or doing paperwork, lunch had come. She was allowed to do whatever she wanted for about 45 minutes. Even though most days the time was used to catch up on work, and rarely to actually eat, today would be an exception. She was determined to find out more about the Joker.

Harley headed straight for Dr. Arkham's office, the only doctor which she believed to be quite alright, compared to the others. He didn't seem to be particularly fond of her, but he at least tolerated her, which would be good enough. Her heels – which she dreaded but wore them anyways and destroyed her feet – clicked as she walked through the quiet hallways, soon reaching the door. Taking a deep breath, she knocked twice, loudly.

"Come in!" shouted the familiar voice of her ex professor. Luckily, he seemed to be in an alright mood .

"Good morning doctor Arkham." Greeted the resident psychiatrist politely, sitting onto the blue chair across the office.

"Good morning, miss Quinzel. Coffee?" He asked with a smile, and although she wanted to refuse, she couldn't. Coffee sounded way too nice.

She sat in silence as he prepared the coffee, a bit bothered by the fact that nobody ever called her a 'doctor'. It was to be expected, of course, but she wouldn't have minded at all to be treated less like a student, and more like an actual psychiatrist.

Arkham set the coffees on the table and she stared at her own cup, tempted to sip from it but it was obviously way too hot, and making a fool of herself was the least thing she wanted. Harley thanked him for the coffee and politely waited for him to offer her his attention.

"So, what can I do for you today?" He asked, trying to subtly take notice of any change in her facial expression. She had noted a while ago that psychiatrists tended to do that.

"I was going to ask you a favor, sir."

"And what is that?" He lifted an eyebrow slightly.

"I-uh, I'm attempting to do some extra work and research the more high profile cases. So far, I found it helps me a lot to analyse the documents of patients. I want access to one of the files." Stated the nervous girl, a minuscule blush creeping onto her cheeks.

"And which patient would it be?"

"The Joker." Harleen said, confidence and determination present in her tone. She didn't want to seem unsure, of afraid of him.

"The Joker? Are you out of your mind? Do you-"

"Yes, I do know that he manages to break the minds of every doctor possible. But his file would be the last one to look at. Please, Dr Arkham? It would really help me." Although she had rudely interrupted him, an innocent smile was present on her lips. The professor sighed and searched for the file in the cabinet marked with the letters I-L. He handed her the file and she excitedly took them, unable to hold back the grin that was plastered onto her facial features.

"Thank you very much, doctor! I'll be sure to give them back in a few days." Said an overly excited Harley as she quickly took her leave, headed towards her office, her pace quick and strides long. To her disappointment, her break time was over, as such she had to study the files home . The thought that he might walk in on her sent a shiver down her spine.

Of course, the rest of the work hours she had were hell. She was unable to stop her mind from racing, thinking of what she might find out in the file. Harley thought it would be of immense help to figuring him out, after all those professional doctors should have found at least a few things about him. Finally, she was free and she hadn't spent any extra minutes in the asylum, but headed straight to the car. Taking a few deep breaths to calm down her restlessness, she started the car and made a mental note to drive slowly.

As soon as she had arrived home, she skipped eating and laid onto the bed, shuffling through the pages of the file. It contained all of the sessions with the past doctors. The first ones were quite boring, as he had said nothing at all, thus the sessions would end sooner. But there was session 9, in which he had finally spoken.

 _"_ _Session number 9, the 15_ _th_ _of September 2013. Good morning, Mr. Joker, how are you feeling today?"_

 _The Joker stared at me and grinned widely, obviously showing off his scars. He seemed to be proud of them, which might lead to believing he had made them himself._

 _"_ _Perfect. Wanna know a secret, doc?" He asked with a mischievous smirk, and I had to get him to talk somehow. It was a bad decision on my part, but I leaned forwards, hoping that he would whisper it into my ear. Of course my bad judgement paid off, and he slammed his handcuffed hands on the back of my neck with incredible speed and banged my head on the metal table. I ended up breaking various facial bones, and had to spend two weeks in the hospital. Since then, he always turned up to sessions in a straightjacket._

'Well, _that_ was short.' Thought Harley, a half page of text hadn't been too helpful. Although, she knew better what to expect from the Joker from that moment on. Of course, there were a few more lines or text, all crossed after that paragraph which described the events, which led Harleen to think it was more to that session than it was described there.

She sighed. Of course. Had she really thought the Joker would be an easy man to work with? No way.

Moving on, she turned the pages, and once again he had said absolutely nothing for the few first sessions. The pages were merely filled with the physical descriptions of the Joker and personal thoughts of the doctor, which she had decided to skip in order to save some time. Once again, at session number 9 she had noticed the Joker actually spoke.

 _"_ _Session number 9, the 23 of February 2014. Good morning, Mr. Joker, how has your day been?"_

 _"_ _Boring, doc. I was hoping you could, uh, light it up for me!" he said with a cackle, and it surprised me that he had actually talked for the first time in 9 sessions. Perhaps we were progressing._

 _"_ _That's great to hear, Mr. Joker. Do you not want to be called any other way? Perhaps your real name?"_

 _He had merely laughed, even harder than before._

 _"_ _Oh, you're hilarious, doc!" he said and leaned in, he was scary although bound in a straightjacket. "You really thought you could figure me out just by getting me to talk, doc? Fix the poor mad clown?" the Joker smirked and leaned back into the chair. "You don't even care about us…the crazies, d'ya, doc?"_

 _"_ _What are you attempting to inquire, mr. Joker?"_

 _"_ _Oh come on, don't play stupid. Isn't that the reason your mother killed herself?" he was smiling broadly, but I knew I had to keep my cool and take control of the session._

 _"_ _I don't think this is an appropriate topic-"_

 _"_ _And that's why you became a psychiatrist, eh? To try and 'fix' those crazies. But deep down, you hate them. And me." He said with a broad, Cheshire smile that almost hypnotized me. I knew I couldn't go on, or he would make me lose my cool completely._

 _"_ _I think, I think we should end this session early today."_

Oh.

Now that was something interesting. So he indeed liked to toy with his doctor's mind. Where did he know all that information anyways about his doctor? Did he have that many ties? The Joker really didn't seem like the guy to have a lot of friends.

And the thing was, his deadliness didn't only come from his words. The doctor had said it perfectly, 'broad, Cheshire smile that almost hypnotized me.' His appearance, his attitude, his prowling, everything he did was menacing. His precision in not only physical combat, but also mental combat was indeed scary. The therapy that he wanted might not turn out as well as Harleen thought. And she wasn't even a third through all the files.

She had placed the files on the nightstand and decided she could take a nap, catch up on sleep. That would do her good.

The sun's rays softly stroked her face and pierced through her eyelids, forcing Harleen to wake up. Realization had hit her, she hadn't woken from that nap. She has been sleeping for 10 hours! And she felt absolutely refreshed, totally didn't regret it. Glancing at the clock only to see it was just 6 AM, she felt relieved to be able to make some coffee before going to work. A great boost to start the day, one that she couldn't always afford due to the time.

Indeed, it was unhealthy for her to always go to sleep late, but she had always been a night owl, and felt that the night time was peaceful. Nobody to call or interrupt her, she could do absolutely anything that she wanted to.

And mornings were just as great. Well, not when an annoying alarm clock would forcefully wake her up and make her hate herself for staying up so late, of course.

Speaking of the devil, her phone was ringing, the default Samsung tone playing. Who the hell would call her at that ungodly hour? Pissed off, Harley snatched the phone only to see it was the lady who rented her the apartment.

"Uh, hello?"

"Harleen quinzel, you haven't paid your rent for two weeks!" oh, great. It was mrs. Jones, the weird lady who had about 5 cats in her apartment. The only reason Harley chose to rent her apartment was because it was the only one allowing her to live with a cat. But damn it was expensive, and she wasn't paid very well with her experience.

"Um, yeah, sorry I'll-"

"No! You've been saying that for the past week, young lady! I only have one solution left. You'll be getting a roommate." She stated and hung up.

'Fuck' was the only thing Harley could think of at that moment. Having a roommate would be horrible! And how would she be able to carry out the therapy sessions with the Joker? What would he do if he saw her roommate? Kill her? What would her roommate say if _she_ saw him?

Harley was never used to sharing either, she was a single child. Her parents weren't rich, but middle class, although she was still used to being alone. And she preferred it that way, even though at times she felt lonely.

And deep down, she knew having a roommate would benefit her, but just not at that moment, when the dam n Joker would be visiting her apartment on a _regular basis_! Not to mention the trouble she would get into if she would be reported to the police.

With a sigh, she took the last sip of her coffee and got dressed up for work. Needless to say, that morning she drove slowly, as she always did after that accident.

Indeed, as soon as she had arrived at work, she was looking noticeably better, her colleagues commenting on how well-rested she seemed that day. It didn't mean her mood was any higher, she was always feeling the same way, empty and bored. They were the only two feelings that she would usually experience during the day.

The first part of the day went by slowly, and she retreated to her 'office', which consisted of the smallest room she had ever seen, a desk, a shitty computer and a chair. And of course, a tiny cabinet which was crammed with a whole lot of different papers.

Speaking of which, she had forgotten the Joker's files at home. No matter, she had a lot of work to catch up on anyways.

 **Knock knock.**

People _loved_ interrupting her, didn't they? She sighed for what it seemed for the millionth time that day, and loudly said a 'Come in.', only to see her ex professor, Jonathan Crane walk in.

"Good morning, sunshine." He teased, seating himself besides the desk and offering Harley a small cup of coffee, which she accepted although she'd already had one in the morning. Although they maintained a strict student-professor relationship, Harley always had a little thing for him as a student. It wasn't as strong now, but she had to admit he looked pretty good.

"Good morning prof- Jonathan." She chuckled at her own failure, never quite having gotten past the professor formalities. "What brings you to my humble office?"

"In fact, I just wanted to see if you wanted to go eat somewhere today. Y'know, an actual restaurant, not a diner or fast food." Questioned Jonathan. Why shouldn't she go? A day of missing a bit of work to relax wouldn't be too bad.

"Yeah, sure." Harley said with a smile as he led her to his car, a shiny black Mercedes. Damn. She only owned one of those cars in her dreams.

Jonathan opened the passenger's seat door for her and she proceeded to get in. He then drove to a restaurant, Darcy's, it was quite fancy. Expensive leather chairs, well dressed people, it was indeed one of those restaurants you only saw in movies if you weren't rich.

They sat at a table for two even though they had no reservation, apparently Jonathan seemed to be familiar with the waiters. No wonder, he must have been quite popular. Even though he was young, just a few years older than Harley, he was much much smarter and had a ton of studies and was already working on a lot of high profile cases such as the Killer Croc.

"What would you like to order? Our today's special is a delicious Italian Rissoto, Massimo Bottura, Sous Vide Dishes and some very delicious Sushi." He said with a fake smile and a heavy Italian accent, ready to write down the order.

"We'll have some sushi, thanks." Jonathan said with a nod. Harley felt quite insulted that he had chosen her meal, but said nothing about it.

"It better be good." She threatened with a goofy smile as the waiters poured some wine into their glasses, even though they didn't order it. She guessed it was just the way fancy restaurants worked.

"Oh trust me, it's the best sushi you'll ever eat."

"I doubt I'll eat much sushi anyways, I mostly settle for pizza." Harley said nonchalantly, he appeared to be quite surprised. Obviously, he was rich after all, he probably never ate normal things such a shawarma, pizzas and all the good stuff.

"You need to get out more, Harls." Stated the professor, a stern look plastered onto his facial features.

"I'll be fine. So, what did you want to talk to me about?" the blonde questioned, perking an eyebrow. He was a busy man, it was unlikely he only wanted to see how she was doing.

"I heard you wanted the Joker's files, why?"

She threw him an 'it's none of your business' look, but answered anyways. "Reading the files and trying to understand them really helps me. Especially the high profile ones."

"But you only wanted the Joker's, along with a few low profile ones you would probably have been interested to treat."

"Exactly. What's your point?"

"Harley, I need you to be honest with me. You know you can trust me." He stated just as the food appeared. The waiter politely placed the sushi, which was in a ridiculously small amount, and the chopsticks onto the immaculately clean table.

"Did you encounter the Joker?" he continued just as the waiter had left, speaking in a hushed whisper. The blonde contemplated whether or not to tell him, but she figured it couldn't hurt to have another opinion on the matter. Nobody would have believed him if he went around telling others that she was treating the Joker anyways, and would most likely end up in Arkham himself.

"Alright." She said with a sigh, defeated. "Yes, I uh, unfortunately had the pleasure of meeting him. After that, he showed up in my apartment and demanded… therapy."

"Therapy? Harleen Quinzel, do you have any idea of how dangerous this man is? No way he wants therapy, he requires you as lure or for one of his schemes. You didn't accept, did you?"

"No, I kicked him in the balls and threw him out the door." She rolled her eyes, her voice filled with sarcasm. "Of course I did! What was I supposed to do? If he would have wanted to kill me, or to hurt me, he would have done so already. Besides, there's nothing I can do about it!"

He seemed like he was about to slap his own forehead with his palm. "Alright, you're stupid if you genuinely believe that. But you're right, you can't do anything about it." The corner of his lips curled into a devilish one. "Although… you might be able to help me with a project."

"What kind of project?"

"I'm trying to develop my own substance, a… fear toxin. Basically, whenever administrated to the victim, the gas sends it into a trauma where it will be experiencing its darkest fears. It's not pleasant."

"Isn't that a bit illegal?"

"Illegal or not, it's a huge step in humanity. Damn it, Harley, you can't tell anyone! Promise me." She was unsure if he was attempting to manipulate her or genuinely sounded desperate. But if he truly possessed such a gas, she would be foolish not to say what he wanted to hear. It was quite frustrating, she was feeling like a mere doll that others played with.

"Alright, I won't tell anyone. I promise. But I still don't get it, what does the Joker have to do with this?"

"He will be my final test subject. I suppose he would be the man with the least fears in all of Gotham, so I need to see what happens. It's only for educational purposes, of course."

"I'll do what I can."

"Thank you."


End file.
